


Someone's Always Waiting

by ownedbyacat



Category: Naruto
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-24
Updated: 2014-12-24
Packaged: 2018-03-03 05:59:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2840624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ownedbyacat/pseuds/ownedbyacat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Missions - even painful, challenging ones - are a fact of shinobi life. Knowing that someone's waiting helps.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Someone's Always Waiting

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lysambre](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lysambre/gifts).



> Not having written any KakaIru in a while, I found this quite a challenge... but a very enjoyable one. I loved the prompts, and I do hope I'm close to the ballpark, even though both Kakashi and Iruka turned out a lot quieter than I intended. Right now, I have a feeling that this story could have gone a bit further, so maybe there'll be a short sequel in the New Year.  
> This has been a lot of fun - even though writing to order is not usually my thing - and I'm thinking of giving the other prompts in my list a whirl over the next weeks. Just because and just because it's Christmas! Hope you enjoy! And thanks for a great challenge!

### Rumours

Of course, there were rumours. There had always been rumours. Gossiping about secrets was a national pastime in Konoha and ANBU secrets were the most closely guarded and the most coveted of all. Nobody was supposed to know who hid behind the porcelain masks, but enough shinobi had seen ANBU soldiers come and go at all hours to not be curious about the identities and special skills of those who wore them. And the tasks that were asked of them for the good of Konoha.

Iruka had always had a better than average grasp on ANBU matters, and that grasp only improved when he started to work the mission desk. He noticed when shinobi were unexpectedly unavailable, when they were suddenly listed as injured without having officially been out of the village, or when they appeared in the line before his desk sporting bandages and haunted eyes.

More than once, Iruka had closed his eyes at the sight, had clenched his hands into fists where nobody could see, and cursed fate, the Sandaime Hokage… and his own weakness. Because while Iruka had a good handle on the identity of a number ANBU operatives, he hadn't yet found a way to help them when the demands made upon them brought them close to breaking. He couldn't just offer a shoulder to cry on or a sympathetic ear, even if someone simply being there when they returned seemed to be what most of the men and women needed.

He couldn't offer his other skills either.

Iruka often wished for the Third's advice. The Sandaime Hokage wouldn't have found it odd that Iruka asked about the welfare of Konoha's ANBU. And while he would not have changed his decree, or even answered Iruka's questions, he would have listened to Iruka's concerns.

It was a shame that Iruka didn't have quite that kind of relationship with the lady Tsunade, which meant he had to keep his concerns to himself.

Until he literally fell over one Hatake Kakashi one night, when he was on his way home after working the mission desk. He'd taken a shortcut through a small alley, the faster to escape the rain, when his foot caught in a bundle of cloth and Iruka almost went flying.

Iruka wouldn't admit it under torture, but ever since their infamous argument over the chuunin exams he'd had a soft spot for the copy nin. Kakashi was a pain in the ass; aloof, annoying, arrogant and any manner of other things that should have rendered him a pariah in Iruka's mind and life, but the sad truth was that Hatake Kakashi held an attraction that Iruka just couldn't shake.

Not a physical attraction, necessarily, though Kakashi was easy on the eye, from the endless legs to the catlike grace of his movements. But what attracted Iruka was more than grace, a curvy-eyed smile or an elegant back worth drooling over. Trite as it was, it had been Kakashi's mind that had first captured Iruka's attention. Nobody in Konoha had ever seen Iruka's little games for what they really were. Nobody had ever taken him up on his hidden challenges, or had returned them wholeheartedly. Nobody, except for one Hatake Kakashi. Whose unmoving form he'd just tripped over. In an alleyway.

His first thought—after recovering from the shock of recognition—was that Kakashi had to be drunk. But the familiar smell of sake was absent and Iruka remembered soon enough that Kakashi drank only rarely, and never to excess. It had been a bone of contention between them, that constant need of Kakashi's to be in control, his inability to relax and just let go, and over the span of weeks they'd argued it to death.

Now, Iruka wished that this was simply a case of Kakashi taking his advice and cutting loose. If it were, he could make fun about the copy nin being a lightweight, instead of being so desperately worried when Kakashi didn't react to being touched and having his name called.

He turned the still figure over, curling his body protectively to shelter Kakashi's face from the rain. Kakashi didn't stir, even when Iruka slipped a hand inside his vest to check for a heartbeat, blood, open wounds… only to find ice-pale, clammy skin, a fast pulse and rapid, shallow breaths. He contemplated taking the copy nin to the hospital in case he'd been poisoned when he saw the telltale tracks of dried tears on Kakashi's right cheek.

And in that one moment, everything changed.

His mind supplied the details of the mission Kakashi had been sent on two weeks earlier and without conscious thought, Iruka wrapped his arms around the still figure and cradled Kakashi against his chest while his fingers formed the seals to take them home.

***

"You're a lot heavier than I thought you'd be," Iruka grumbled half an hour later as he dragged Kakashi's now clean, but still-unconscious form onto the bed. Unresponsive, Kakashi was a dead weight, and getting his filthy clothes off him in order to check more thoroughly for injuries and make him comfortable had been a struggle. At least until Iruka thought of using a clone to help.

While Kakashi's state worried him, Iruka was actually grateful that the copy nin had been out cold for the proceedings, or there would be another person in Konoha who could attest to Iruka's impressive vocabulary of swear words and curses. It wasn't as if Kakashi needed _more_ blackmail material.

When Kakashi's clothes and most of the mud and filth were gone, Iruka once more contemplated taking the copy nin to the hospital. For one, he felt like a voyeur paying such close attention to Kakashi's body while the man couldn't say whether he wanted to be stared at or not. For another, Kakashi looked as if Iruka's junior class had used him as a target during shuriken practice. For years. New scars overlapped old scars, fresh bruises covered large areas of unexpectedly soft skin and with Kakashi unconscious Iruka had no way to determine whether any of the hastily field-dressed cuts had been made with a poison-tipped blade or not.

He decided against it in the end, knowing how much Kakashi disliked hospitals. And—maybe—because he could admit to himself that he relished a chance to take care of the copy nin, like a tiny bit of payback for everything Kakashi had done for him without even being aware of it.

Kakashi stirred while Iruka cleaned the worst of the wounds, thrashing weakly and trying to get away from Iruka's ministrations.

"I'm sorry. You're safe. I'm sorry. I'm almost done," Iruka repeated like a mantra over and over, tensed to evade in an instant should Kakashi attack him.

But the copy nin just slid from unconsciousness into dreams. Dreams that quickly turned to nightmares. Iruka's heart hurt, just watching. He had a fairly good idea what Kakashi was dreaming about and it was his considered opinion that nobody—civilian, shinobi or ANBU—should ever be forced to carry such burdens.

For long moments, his hands hovered over Kakashi's forehead, fingers poised to form seals.

But that way lay madness, lay pain and danger. And all Iruka could hear in his mind was Sarutobi Hiruzen's stern voice.

He withdrew his hands and folded them tightly in his lap. He closed his eyes and breathed until the rage inside him calmed, until the fierce need to help… act… do…was under his control once more.

Like acid in a vat of paint, Iruka's imagination swirled around the parameters of Kakashi's mission and produced images for Kakashi's dreams. Vivid, colourful images that burned his mind, that made him wonder if… He shied away from the thought once more and tried to wake Kakashi from his dreams instead.

He failed.

The nightmare had too firm a hold. Kakashi trembled under its onslaught. His eyelids fluttered and he muttered words, too low and slurred to make out, under his breath. His skin was chilled and clammy to the touch, and Iruka piled blankets all around him. Even after Kakashi's shivers subsided, he sat on the bed, ran his fingers through silver hair that was much, much softer than it looked, and murmured words to soothe and calm.

He woke at dawn, still fully dressed on top of the blankets, with Kakashi curled tightly around him, warm and alive and clinging like a vine.

It felt surprisingly nice.

So nice, that Iruka allowed himself a few moments to return the embrace, to bury his head in Kakashi's shoulder and just…be.

He eventually made it out of bed and left breakfast and a note for Kakashi in the kitchen. He wasn't surprised when the apartment was empty when he returned home that night. He wasn't surprised, either, when Kakashi never once asked what had happened or alluded to the fact that he'd woken in Iruka's bed.

Kakashi just didn't think that way. And Iruka knew it.

***

Late winter eventually morphed into spring. Iruka packed away scarves, hats and gloves and traded his heavy, fleece-lined shirts for lighter ones. He relished the soft air and remnants of daylight that greeted him when his shift at the mission office ended, and he rearranged his schedules so he could use the lighter evenings for training and take care of grading and lesson planning before classes started in the morning. His days were long this way, but Iruka didn't mind. Even if—most nights—he had barely enough energy left when he came home to brew and enjoy a single cup of tea before he fell into bed, and housework was left for the weekend.

The loud knock on his door in the middle of the night had him shoot upright in bed, eyes barely open and mind heavy with sleep. In Iruka's experience, nightly disturbances were never good news. Trepidation coiled deep in his gut, and he stumbled through the living room, moonlight as his only guide, to slowly pull the door open.

Then he stared.

At one blood-and-mud-spattered copy nin, leaning against the wall outside his door in an exhausted sprawl, a large bag of takeout at his feet.

"I thought I'd better add dinner to the invasion."

It was said softly and without a hint of challenge in the deep voice. Kakashi wasn't smiling either, and when Iruka searched his face for a clue, he turned his head away. Confused and still half asleep, Iruka blinked.

"You… what?"

In the space of a single heartbeat, Kakashi's expression turned sheepish. He slowly started to back away from the open door. "You told me you'd always be there if I needed a place to come home to," he mumbled. "I just thought…"

Suddenly it all made sense.

Iruka flushed bright red at the idea that Kakashi had not only heard all the crazy stuff he'd said that night six weeks ago, but that he felt comfortable enough with Iruka to believe that the chuunin had meant every word. It warmed him like few things ever had and there was just no way he would let the copy nin walk away now. He stretched out his hand and grabbed hold of Kakashi's sleeve, yanking him into the apartment.

"Get your ass inside, Hatake," he mock-growled. "And don't forget that food. I'm starving."

 

### Summons

Kakashi knew that he was needed long before he was summoned to the Hokage Tower. For hours, Tsunade's fury had hung like a dark cloud over the village, heavy and oppressive like an approaching thunderstorm. There'd been no news, no sudden announcements, so—at the very least—Kakashi knew that Konoha was not at war. But as time went on, Tsunade's fury didn't lessen and when the summons finally came, Kakashi was packed and ready to leave.

He hadn't expected to see Naruto in Tsunade's office, standing—slumping tiredly, really—in front of her desk. The haunted look in the teen's red, puffy eyes and the multitude of cuts and bruises visible through the remains of his uniform explained some of the Hokage's fury.

"What happened to you?" he queried, bracing himself for a flood of loud complaints and jumbled exaggerations.

"They caught Iruka-sensei," Naruto said instead, so quietly that Kakashi could barely hear. "And I couldn't do anything. He wouldn't let me help him."

Of course, he wouldn't. Kakashi closed his eyes for just a moment, surprised at the surge of rage that washed over him. Surprised, too, that he couldn't have said, right then, who his anger was directed at.

"We need to go get him back, Kakashi-sensei," Naruto pleaded. "Please."

There was no question in Kakashi's mind that they would. No question at all, even if Kakashi hadn't had Iruka's voice in his ear, the quiet words that reminded him that s _omeone's always waiting, ready to welcome you back._

The words had become a mantra of sorts to him, ever since that night Iruka had found him in the alley. They never spoke about it, but Kakashi had grown to appreciate—more than appreciate, really—Iruka's presence whenever he felt like something vile instead of human. According to Iruka, the chuunin offered little more than simple acceptance, a place to sit and talk or sit and be silent, a place to come home to, a place for Kakashi to remind himself of the reason for all the death and destruction in his life.

To Kakashi, Iruka's presence meant much more than that. It reminded him of ties he'd not had in a very long time. Ties he'd once scoffed at, not realising how necessary they were to him until they'd been severed. It even made him wonder if he'd ever find the courage to forge such ties once more.

Kakashi understood perfectly why Naruto looked ready to break, why he looked lost and vulnerable and far too young. Losing Iruka, being _ordered_ not to save the man he considered family, would hurt the blond like few other things could.

But Kakashi also knew that the defeated look was deceptive. He was well acquainted with the stubborn streak that would make Naruto move heaven and earth to finish his task, whether he was injured or not. Given that knowledge, he wasn't in the least surprised when Tsunade shooed Naruto from her office.

"Go to Shizune and get patched up."

"I want to go with Kakashi-sensei," Naruto demanded and Tsunade breathed out a long-suffering sigh.

"Who else would I send after Iruka-sensei, eh? Go get patched up so you can leave!"

She turned to Kakashi as soon as the door shut behind Naruto and if Kakashi hadn't been Kakashi, he'd have found it hard to breathe in the Hokage's vicinity. The woman was _that_ furious. And when she dismissed her ANBU guards and warded the room against eavesdroppers, Kakashi grew still and very watchful.

This was bigger than a shinobi being caught on a mission. Much bigger.

Kakashi had always known about Iruka's ANBU credentials. The chuunin might spend his days teaching children and putting the fear of god into wayward jounin, but Kakashi had caught him often enough on the training grounds late at night to know that the man had impressive skills. Even before they'd become friends of a sort had Kakashi known that Iruka kept himself ready for anything that might suddenly be demanded of him. Not to mention that the Sharingan saw right through even the most skillfully executed henge. So, yes, Kakashi knew about Iruka's ANBU status. His speciality, however, had a remained a mystery.

"Iruka carries a bloodline limit. An exceedingly rare one," Tsunade told him without warning. "He can remove memories. Erase them as if they'd never been. He most commonly goes out when a mission has been compromised, to ensure nobody suspects our involvement."

The connection was there in a flash, the timing too obvious, but Kakashi couldn't believe what he was hearing. "It's my ass he's saving, right? That's why you're making him do this!"

"You're too valuable to loose, brat. Even if you're getting sentimental in your old age."

She didn't say what they both knew, that if anyone suspected Konoha to be in possession of the scrolls Kakashi had been sent to retrieve, there would be war. It was safer to focus on the minor issue that Kakashi had been seen by a five-year-old and that he might end up in yet another bingo book for his refusal to kill the child.

"Iruka-sensei's just as valuable," Kakashi argued. "I've never even heard of a bloodline limit like this."

"Yes, talking of which…." Tsunade reached into the bottom drawer of her desk and pulled out a bottle of sake and a cup. "It's a valuable skill, like you say. Far too valuable to have it fall into someone else's hands. So, if you can't get him out…"

"No way," Kakashi's hands itched with the need to wring Tsunade's neck for even suggesting it. "No fucking way."

"Then you'll better find a way to bring him back."

And Kakashi silently vowed that he would.

 

### Family

"Tell me how this works," Kakashi demanded as soon as they were outside the gates and headed into the heart of Fire Country. Naruto had returned to the Hokage's office almost before Tsunade had stopped speaking, patched up, changed and with a heavily filled pack on his back. For some reason, the blond wasn't travelling light this time. He wasn't his usual boisterous self, either.

"Iruka-sensei is good at disguises," Naruto replied as if this was news to anyone who'd ever been on the receiving end of one of Iruka's pranks. "Most of the time, he can get close to his target without any problems at all."

"And when he can't, you create a diversion?"

"Yes."

Kakashi could see that working. Iruka wasn't an assassin, but his skills at infiltration and deception were of a high order. He'd just need a brief opening and then his cheerful, friendly disposition would do the rest.

"That's not why I go with him, though," Naruto said many hours later, when they stopped beside a spring to rest for a while. The village where Iruka was being held wasn't far by shinobi standards. Kakashi had no plans to stop overnight and Naruto wasn't making any noises to the contrary. In fact, Naruto had been so quiet while they travelled, that Kakashi almost forgot at times that he had company. There'd been no complaints about their speed of travel, the weight of their packs or even boredom. The blond teen raced through the trees with a focus that was a sight to behold.

"Eh?"

"Me being a diversion came later," Naruto tried the explanation again. It still made very little sense.

"Later than what?"

"Must you be so literal, Kakashi-sensei?" the blond suddenly yelled. "Later than me being Iruka-sensei's anchor, of course! Grandma Tsunade sent me to make sure he remembered. It was only later that I realised I could help more."

"Remembered what?"

"Och, no! Didn't she tell you anything?" Naruto scrunched up his face and rubbed his forehead, desperately trying to make the copy nin understand. "When Iruka-sensei does… what he does… he forgets who he is," Naruto finally explained, as eloquently as he could. "He sort of folds in on himself and goes all quiet and stiff-like. I have to remind him who he is, and that we're family, and then he remembers and comes back to himself."

The image Naruto painted—however haphazardly—sent shivers down Kakashi's spine. Working for the good of the village was one thing. Having to leave yourself vulnerable while in range of your enemies was something else entirely. Especially when all the backup available was a rambunctious teen who couldn't spell subtle if his life depended on it.

"Does that happen every time?" he asked gruffly. "That he…forgets who he is?"

"Pretty much," Naruto nodded, and the serious look was back on his face. "Sometimes he can walk away and sit down somewhere. Not often, though. That's why I thought of being a diversion."

"Because you can get to him faster?"

"Because I can make them come after me."

Kakashi sighed. What good could it do to lead the pursuers aside, when Iruka couldn't recover his… memory? Sense of self?… without Naruto's help? What would happen to the chuunin if Naruto was caught or hurt or…? It really didn't bear thinking about.

Kakashi desperately wanted to have words with Tsunade. Short, loud words. Angry words. Maybe an explosion or two. Just to remind her that fierce protectors didn't always do a good job protecting themselves. That they did best with a predator beside them.

Naruto followed immediately when Kakashi rose and reached for his pack. Moments later they were underway again. "Tell me about your mission," Kakashi demanded. "What happened and what went wrong?"

"Well… the target is an old man in a mansion. He doesn't come out, so Iruka-sensei had to sneak in."

Kakashi had just been inside said mansion, so he paid only scant attention to Naruto's lengthy descriptions of the gardens, the wall and the number of guards. Instead he wondered how Iruka had planned to get out by himself.

"Iruka-sensei said we should meet at the shrine beside the mansion. We went there the night before to see it. On the way back we stopped at a ramen stand, and Iruka-sensei talked to everyone, and then they kept throwing all those girls at him," Naruto reported gleefully.

"What?"

"Eh, you know…" Naruto gave a nonchalant wave, as if he saw such sights every day. After having been on the road with Jiraya, that was entirely possible.

"Didn't that suggest to you that someone knew about Iruka-sensei's special skill? That they tried to breed it?"

"Oh, sure. But Iruka-sensei said it was irre… iree… irrelevant!" he finished triumphantly.

Kakashi supposed that it would be, once Iruka was done with whoever knew about him.

***

The mansion's formal gardens lay deserted when Kakashi slipped over the wall shortly after sunset. At the centre of the large, beautifully kept space, soft sand was raked into swirls and waves around randomly placed rocks. Miniature maple trees grew in shallow glazed bowls and the regular clacking of a bamboo fountain added texture to the balmy evening.

A simple hedge of tall grasses, fronds susurrating in the breeze, fringed the border between the mansion and the shrine, while the mansion itself was surrounded by lilacs, honeysuckle, wisteria and azaleas. Flowers were everywhere, colours cascading over roofs and winding around columns to create a space that breathed as much luxury as Kakashi had seen on the inside of the mansion.

It stuck in Kakashi's craw that a man who made his living by blackmail had the impertinence to put his ill-gotten gains on display in such a way. He knew that the man forced many of his victims to attend him personally to pay the money he demanded for the return of their secrets and he could easily imagine how those people would feel, coming face to face with this ostentation.

Breaking into the mansion and extracting the scrolls that threatened Konoha had required no soul searching or difficult choices. And if it hadn't been for a tiny girl unable to sleep, Kakashi would have been in and out of the place like the predator he was.

Kakashi slid through the gloom, exploring the garden's hidden spaces before slipping past the guards to check each room of the sprawling pile for the missing chuunin. Vases, sculptures and printed silk screens blended with ornate carved tables, with chests and cupboards inlaid with ivory until Kakashi felt as if he was searching a museum. A badly organised museum at that. Some of the furniture was outstandingly beautiful, but crammed into over decorated rooms with too many other artefacts the pieces lost their impact.

Hirato Yuki might be inhumanly skilled at extracting secrets and money, but he clearly had no taste and no appreciation for any of the treasures he hoarded, deeming them nothing but another way to show off his power.

A power he abused with far too much levity.

A power that had dared to touch something that Kakashi held dear.

Hatake Kakashi was known to be aloof, detached, not ruled by his emotions. But right then, something inside of him craved violence. The last time he'd been here, he'd chosen to ignore the fact that he'd been seen. If anything had happened to Iruka, his policy of not harming bystanders would change. Drastically.

Kakashi didn't startle when Pakkun suddenly appeared before him in a wisp of smoke and swirl of leaves.

"He found Iruka-sensei," the pug informed and Kakashi gave up on his fruitless exploration with a grateful sigh.

***

They emerged on the edge of a small busy market that rang with the sounds of haggling and offers being yelled back and forth, and with the scent of freshly cooked food in the air. There was no sign of Naruto or Iruka.

"Where are they?"

"This way," Pakkun said laconically and disappeared down an alley lined with bars. "Follow me."

Despite the bright lights and people milling about, the alley was a dead end. The packed dirt road narrowed, the houses stepped back from the thoroughfare and the alley grew into a small, arena-like space backed by a high wall. It was a space made for fights and Kakashi wasn't surprised to see a blond blur surrounded by six larger, darker shapes.

Naruto kept to the furthest corner of the area and—even to Kakashi's experienced eye—he was holding his own against the six assailants, dodging between and around them as if they were so many straw targets. The taunts he threw out in between his bouts of speed were designed to keep the men distracted and facing his way and when Kakashi followed Pakkun closer the reason for the tactic became glaringly obvious.

Iruka slumped against the side of the last inn on the street, staring blankly. The lack of expression cut through Kakashi's tight mission focus and he stared right back, shocked speechless.

The total absence of blood and gore, of bruises, cuts and broken bones, wasn't nearly as much of a relief as Kakashi had expected it to be. Iruka like this, eyes wide open and no sign of recognition on his expressive face, was a sight that raised shivers in Kakashi's soul. His chest grew tight and hot and his good eye was itching enough that Kakashi had to rub to clear his vision. But even when he pulled off one glove, touched Iruka's face and called his name… Iruka stayed where he was: slumped against the wall and staring.

"We need to get him out of here, Kaka-sensei. This will take hours."

Kakashi had missed the end of Naruto's fight. The blond looked a little rough around the edges, but he bounced on the balls of his feet, clearly intent to get going.

"Lead on," Kakashi ordered, pulled Iruka up by the waist and slung him over his shoulder before he followed Naruto back down the street.

"How did you find him?"

The blond shrugged. "Dunno. I always do… somehow."

"Right. And do you always fight, too?"

"You would have kicked their asses too, Kakashi-sensei!" Naruto protested with something close to his usual exuberance. "They were trying to rob him. Or worse!"

Kakashi couldn't argue with the assessment. Not when he felt a stab of regret that he hadn't joined the fight. It wasn't something he was going to admit to, though. He concentrated instead on Iruka's warm weight across his shoulder and on the soft breaths he could feel against his wrist.

Iruka was alive. He was safe. And Naruto would help him… remember.

***

"Headache," was the first word Iruka croaked, eyes slitted against the dim light in the room. The tiny cottage they'd rented at the edge of the village smelled of green tea and autumn leaves, of dashi stock and cinnamon candles. A small, blue blanket, threadbare enough to be called a rag, wrapped around Iruka's shoulders. Pictures were propped up around him, and small knick-knacks that had no purpose Kakashi could fathom lay in his lap.

It had taken hours to snap the chuunin out of his fugue state, and Kakashi had acquired a new respect for Naruto. The usually so heedless ball of unlimited energy had shown limitless patience. He'd made tea and lit candles, had settled himself beside Iruka's unresponsive form and had talked for hours. He'd gone through the items he'd brought one by one, reminding Iruka where he'd gotten them or who had given them to him, told him why he cherished each one. He made the chuunin touch each item, talked about the photos and pictures he'd brought and slowly… ever so slowly… recognition returned to Iruka's gaze.

"Kami, my head hurts," Iruka slumped forward and rubbed at his temples and Kakashi was so grateful to see him moving and hear his voice, he could have hugged Naruto to thank him for the miracle he'd wrought.

"Here, let me." Kakashi straightened from his slouch. He slipped behind the sagging chuunin and braced his back against the wall. He pulled Iruka up until he was sitting between his legs and leaned against his chest. After a moment he focussed and—fingers glowing green—started to massage Iruka's scalp and the taut muscles in his neck.

"Oh, that feels good."

Iruka leaned into the touch, almost purring under Kakashi's fingers, the sounds so incongruous that Kakashi had to bite his lip so he wouldn't smile.

"Glad to have you back, sensei," he said. "Are you fit to travel or should we spend the night here to give you a chance to rest?"

The silence in the room grew so long that Naruto was looking up from his packing and Kakashi twisted sideways in an attempt to catch a look at Iruka's face.

"I need to get back into the mansion," Iruka finally admitted in a voice heavy with dread. "The mission's not yet complete."

***

Conducting an argument in hisses and whispers didn't make it any less violent. Or hurtful. Kakashi rubbed his aching temples and cursed fate and the Hokage at being stuck on a mission with the two most stubborn individuals Konoha had ever produced.

It didn't help that Naruto was taking Iruka's side.

"You wouldn't return home without completing your mission, Kaka-sensei," the blond said, far more quietly than Kakashi was used to. "Iruka-sensei doesn't either."

"If it were a mission that left me debilitated within reach of my enemies, I probably would," Kakashi argued back, wondering if he really would or if he was equally stubborn. Or stupid.

Iruka paid neither of them any mind. He didn't intervene. He didn't try to smooth the waters as he usually did. He didn't even state his own opinion. He simply got up, brewed more tea and took the painkillers Tsunade had given him to help with the headache.

"I was hoping you'd come along as backup," he said when the tight lines between his brows had smoothed out a little. "That way, you can help me get out and Naruto can wait for us at the shrine in case we need a diversion."

"That's a great idea!" Naruto bounced up and reached for the smaller pack he'd had with him earlier. He was half out of the door in the blink of an eye, missing the moment when Iruka smiled in triumph and Kakashi sighed in defeat.

***

"Honeysuckle," Iruka whispered, his voice a velvet soft promise in the quiet balm of the evening. "Remind me of honeysuckle, Kakashi, when we step back into the garden. Maybe that will help me remember faster."

Iruka had explained, on the way back to the mansion, how it felt to lose himself in memories. "It's like sinking into a deep, dark lake without any indication in which direction the surface lies. When Naruto talks of family, when he lights scented candles the way I do at home, when he gives me familiar things to hold, it's like he's illuminating the lake, telling me which way to swim to get home. "

"Why honeysuckle?"

"It's right here. I've only just experienced it. And scents seem to work best."

Pakkun appeared right beside the shrubs they were using for cover. "Naruto's in position in the shrine, boss," the pug said, matter-of-fact. "And the guards appear a bit bored tonight."

"Right. I'll call you if we need a diversion."

"You got it, boss."

The pug disappeared and Kakashi looked at Iruka, determined to get this done as fast as possible. Waiting in the scented darkness beside Iruka had made him realise that it wasn't Iruka's choice to complete the mission that had been bothering him. It was the idea of Iruka going alone. Since that issue had been taken care of, there was nothing left to worry over. Kakashi pulled his mask up and his forehead protector down. Then he grinned like the predator he was. "Does Hirato need to be conscious for you to… do what you do?"

***

Watching Iruka wield his magic wasn't as much fun as Kakashi had thought it would be. Not even after Kakashi had draped the unconscious blackmailer decoratively over a beautifully carved table, effectively incorporating the man into his own collection.

During his first visit, Kakashi had only seen Hirato's house and possessions. He'd found the scrolls he'd been sent to retrieve and didn't bother looking up the scrolls' owner. Now he decided that he'd missed nothing. Running to fat, with slightly too long hair and unhealthy skin, the famous blackmailer looked nothing like his fearsome reputation. Not once Kakashi was finished with him.

"This will take a little while, Kakashi-san," Iruka said, suddenly formal. "His mind is… a swamp."

"Maa… don't worry, I'll entertain myself," Kakashi reassured and turned towards a large, locked chest that took pride of place in Hirato's bedroom. Opening it took mere moments, and the haul inside was nothing to be sneezed at. Kakashi read, memorised and replaced everything as he found it, closing the box several explosive secrets richer.

By the time he was done, Iruka was hunched over Hirato's still form, rubbing his temples and muttering softly to himself. His hair had come loose from its ponytail and was spreading like a curtain around his face. It looked... enticing.

Kakashi settled himself cross-legged on top of the chest and watched Iruka's expressive face cycle through disgust, anger, horror, more anger, and finally deep focus. Moments later pain took the place of the focus, Hirato's body arched once and then Iruka slumped forward with an agonised moan.

"Iruka!"

Kakashi was off the chest and across the room in an instant, just in time to catch Iruka as he toppled forward.

The chuunin's cinnamon eyes were glassy and he shivered violently when Kakashi pulled him up.

"Iruka, can you hear me?"

There was no reaction from the brown-haired chuunin. When Kakashi leaned down, he recognised the blank, expressionless face he'd seen earlier in the alley. Whatever Iruka had done to Hirato, it had left him in the same unresponsive state as before.

Well, that was what he was here for. He wrapped an arm around Iruka's waist and held tight to his swaying form while his fingers formed the requisite seals.

A heartbeat later they materialised in the mansion's formal gardens.

***

Getting out of the house was child's play. Getting out of the garden, was another thing altogether. Hirato Yuki clearly valued his privacy. His gardens were protected by high walls, complicated wards and a raft of guards. His house, by comparison, was open to all comers.

It was his third visit, so Kakashi knew his way in and out. If he'd been by himself, escaping from the mansion would have taken a matter of moments. With an incapacitated chuunin to look after, it became a little more of an issue. Especially since Kakashi really didn't want to have to sit through several more hours of Naruto's careful ministrations. Watching the impetuous brat turn into a solicitous caretaker had been shocking enough the first time he'd seen it. Doing it again would guarantee a month of nightmares.

He'd transported himself and Iruka from Hirato's bedroom into one of the grottos at the far end of the garden. The guard schedule was busy here, and the walls at the back of the estate were heavily warded. Just the space where nobody would expect intruders. It was also the area where the scent of lilacs and honeysuckle hung heaviest in the air, even long after the sun had set.

Iruka had stopped shivering, but he only moved when Kakashi pushed at him. The glassy look in his eyes was giving Kakashi the creeps and if he never saw it again, it would be too soon. To make matters worse, Iruka kept licking his lips as if they'd gone dry in the soft evening air. Kakashi had no idea if it was a reaction to what Iruka had done to Hirato, but it gave him a number of ideas he really couldn't act on right then.

Or ever.

"Honeysuckle, Iruka," he said, almost desperate for a distraction. "Can you smell the scent? It's sweet and… There's lilac, too. My mother used to love lilac. She'd dry the flowers and keep them in small muslin bags amongst her clothes." Kakashi flinched when he heard himself. Where had that come from? He couldn't remember his mother's face but he remembered the scent of lilac clinging to her?

He shook his head and tried again.

"Iruka, come back. Naruto is waiting for us. You remember Naruto, right? He's your family. And you're Umino Iruka, the best instructor at the academy. You look after the mission desk, too, and you scare the shit out of most of us lazy jounin. Do you remember?"

Iruka didn't reply. He merely looked through Kakashi and licked his lips over and over.

A hot wave of rage and want washed over Kakashi. He wanted to growl. He wanted to scream and shake the annoying man, wanted to show him that they were family too, and that hiding inside his mind was useless, wanted to… wanted…

Their lips touched, soft and chaste and barely there. The scent of lilacs and honeysuckle washed against Kakashi's senses like a drug made of sweetness and light. Iruka's form was pliant against him, his lips opening to Kakashi's questing tongue. For an eternity of seconds, Kakashi lost himself in warmth and softness and the feeling of home. His arms wrapped around the cinnamon-haired chuunin. He fit their bodies close together and… froze when Iruka opened his eyes.

"Kakashi?"

He didn't jump back as if he'd been hit. He had better control than that. But he had his mask up and his arms unwrapped from around Iruka's waist in a mere blink.

"Excellent, you're back," he said, faking a cheerfulness he didn't feel. "Don't make a sound. We're hiding."

 

### Memories

This late at night, the large mission office was surprisingly peaceful. No never-ending stream of shinobi, no bickering, no complaints, no scratching of pens or shuffling of feet... just empty air and a pool of yellow light around Iruka's pristine, empty desk. Iruka leaned his elbows on the wood and rested his cheek on his folded hands.

Once again, he was the last person in the building, but he didn't mind that.

His friends and colleagues had all gone off to salute the New Year with music, lights and alcohol, but he didn't mind that either. The last weeks had been hectic and stressful and Iruka welcomed a few quiet hours to catch up on work long neglected more than he would have appreciated loud music, alcohol and company.

So Iruka had volunteered for the last shift on New Year's Eve. And even though this shift was now officially done, and he was free to close up the mission office and head home, or join his friends out to celebrate, he remained at his desk, illuminated by a pool of soft yellow light, and sat quietly waiting.

Iruka was honest enough to admit that catching up on neglected paperwork was not his only, or even his most important, reason for working late on New Year's Eve. No. If anyone had known him well enough to ask, Iruka might have admitted that he was waiting.

Hatake Kakashi was due back from a mission tonight. Iruka, who had handed him the mission scroll ten days ago, knew what had been asked of the copy nin. Kakashi was in a class of his own: smart and capable, resourceful and unflinchingly loyal, and because of that the Hokage didn't hesitate to entrust him with the most sensitive missions. Kakashi might occasionally balk at what he was asked to do, he might demand justification, might ask to see proof... but once he accepted a mission, he carried it out, regardless of what it cost him.

And Iruka, who'd seen the mission parameters, didn't want Kakashi to have to deal with the aftermath all by himself.

He knew he'd been right the moment Kakashi stepped through the door of the deserted mission office.

Kakashi actually using the door was never a good sign. Iruka would have preferred it had the copy nin arrived in more dramatic style. He would have preferred to see Kakashi's thin cheeks red with cold over the edge of the mask rather than marble pale. He would have preferred eyes that were heavy with fatigue rather than haunted by what they'd seen. Most of all, though, he would have preferred honest despair or even outright anger to the faked cheerfulness Kakashi thought was appropriate.

Iruka knew he couldn't say any of that, so he merely smiled in welcome.

"Very impressive for someone who is habitually late. You made it back in time to celebrate the New Year."

"And I brought treats." The cheerful air around Kakashi lost a few of its sparkles. "Alcohol, mainly. And fruit and chocolate."

"Excellent," Iruka's voice held equally fake cheer. "I have dinner waiting at home. Do you need medical attention first?"

Kakashi shuddered at the thought. "No. But I'd love some company," he said, almost too low to hear.

"I've been waiting for you," Iruka replied just as quietly.

***

It took all the way through a long, hot shower, a late dinner of Kakashi's favourite dishes and most of the chocolate and alcohol-soaked cherries for Kakashi to stop jumping at every shadow. Eventually, he relaxed enough to drop off to sleep on Iruka's couch, while Iruka did the dishes, warmed the sake and arranged his favourite cups and chocolates on a lacquer tray.

When Iruka returned to he living room, Kakashi was curled on his side, muttering under his breath.

"Kakashi."

The copy nin startled upright, hand reaching under the couch cushions for a kunai. Iruka was glad they'd agreed on a weapons embargo in the living room.

"You were dreaming."

Kakashi blinked, both eyes now wide open. Then he drew a deep breath and pulled the eyepatch back over the sharingan. "So I was."

He offered nothing further and Iruka didn't ask. They'd become closer during the year—much closer than Iruka thought he'd ever be with the private, aloof copy nin—but their relationship was being built on trust and the foundations weren't quite solid enough for questions yet.

"Sake?" Iruka lifted the tray, Kakashi nodded and they settled companionably on the couch, ready to welcome the new year.

***

It was almost dawn when Kakashi finally spoke. They were curled together on Iruka's couch under a heap of blankets, but neither had been sleeping. Kakashi seemed to relish the peace and closeness, while Iruka waited… for Kakashi to fall asleep, for nightmares, recriminations, maybe even a kiss. They'd done this a number of times over the last year, and the routine had become familiar to them both. Even the kiss in Hirato's garden had not changed their comfortable interaction. If anything, it had made them more aware of each other. They were careful in the way they treated each other, appreciative of what they had found and patient to let it grow at its own pace.

Silence between them, especially when Kakashi was just back from a difficult mission, was never uncomfortable. Neither was conversation and when Kakashi's voice came, it was a gossamer sound in the stillness.

"Iruka, if I ever asked, would you…?"

Kakashi didn't finish his sentence. And Iruka smiled in the darkness. After the mission to make Hirato Yuki forget the scrolls Kakashi had retrieved had ever existed, Kakashi had had words with the Hokage. Loud words, angry words, words that resulted in Kakashi now backing Iruka up along with Naruto every time he was sent out on one of _those_ errands. Fortunately, they weren't frequent. Kakashi had watched him work only twice, but each time he'd grown quieter and more thoughtful on the way home.

And now here it was, the question that had occupied the copy nin's busy mind for weeks. And Iruka had only one answer to give.

"No," he replied. "I will not take your memories, Kakashi. And not just because they'd then become mine."

"What?"

"You didn't know?"

Kakashi mutely shook his head.

"I'm rarely sent to deal with pleasant people," Iruka explained, long since reconciled to the fact. "Taking a small child's memory isn't that painful. One, because they haven't accumulated that many memories and two, because children are rarely truly mean. Put me in front of a man like Hirato and… well, you've seen the results."

"Like drowning in a sewer."

"What?"

"You said that," Kakashi huffed. "The last time I tried to… wake you."

"It's sort of true. In real life, memories accumulate slowly. When I use my skill, my mind is swamped with a flood of them. They overwhelm me until I can sort them out and push them away."

"And that's why you don't want to take mine. Because of all the things I've done." Kakashi sounded unexpectedly defeated.

"Actually, no." Iruka shifted so he could rest his head on Kakashi's shoulder. The contact relaxed him and Kakashi never seemed to mind. "It would feel intrusive…more intrusive… since I know you, but I'd do it in a heartbeat if I think it would help."

"But you don't think it would."

"Removing memories that bother you might help you feel better in the short term," Iruka said, very quietly.

"But?"

Their words had died to mere whispers, and while that made little sense, it felt comforting, there in the darkness. It made it easier to confess what Iruka had never admitted to another person before. "I used to love that I had the ability to ease people's pain, even while Sandaime warned me that I was meddling with things I didn't fully understand. It wasn't until I hurt… a friend… that I realised how dangerous my gift was."

It was difficult to get the words out, and at first, Iruka was grateful that Kakashi merely listened. But as the silence stretched, Iruka started to worry. He'd expected questions, requests for more information, for names and details, but Kakashi just sat quietly breathing, still as a statue.

"What makes your gift so dangerous?" the copy nin asked finally, and Iruka understood that he'd tried to phrase his question so it wouldn't tear open old wounds.

"Our minds keep memories for a reason," Iruka tried to explain, desperate to make Kakashi understand that he'd help if only he could. "Say you were in battle. Your mind records enemy configurations, and it remembers what you did to defeat them. The next time you come across a similar situation, you react faster. True?"

"True. You're saying that removing memories can put me at a disadvantage later."

"Yes. That's exactly what I'm saying."

Kakashi shifted so suddenly that his movements dislodged Iruka from his comfortable perch. "You are…unbelievably strong," he said, voice rough. "Damn Tsunade, but I finally get it. You thrive on helping others, and yet… how do you do that, Iruka? How do you watch me fight with myself and _not_ just take the pain away?"

"I've wanted to so many times."

"I believe that," Kakashi wrapped his arms around Iruka's shoulders. He pulled him close and rested his cheek against Iruka's hair. "You've promised to be always here when I come back. Since I learned what you can do, I've wondered why you didn't offer to… Now, I'm learning to be grateful for your strength."

Kakashi's embrace was warm and solid and not at all hesitant. He wasn't angry or resentful at Iruka's refusal to help. The hollow feeling in Iruka's stomach disappeared, soothed by the acceptance he felt from the copy nin. And when they finally kissed, it was to feelings of warmth and comfort… and hints of the fierce fire that lay in wait for them.


End file.
